


The End

by la_the_bananaman



Category: The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, Gen, hints at PTSD, loose description of gorey death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 15:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1654172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_the_bananaman/pseuds/la_the_bananaman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The War Against Gaea may be over, but the scars it left on Annabeth Chase are far from healed. This is just a quick oneshot my brain spewed out one day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I wrote in the Percy Jackson 'verse... I missed it. Let me know what you think?

The most important thing to Annabeth Chase was building something that would last an era. Something stable, something new, and – most importantly – something permanent. Her opportunity came after the Second Titan War. It came to her on Olympus with the return of the gods, and it came to her in the form of a reward.

Annabeth Chase had been offered the chance of a lifetime – the chance to design a brand new Mount Olympus.

All month, day in and day out, she had been planning, sketching, drafting, and finally finishing the first few buildings’ final drafts. She hardly slept, she hardly ate, and she hardly spoke regularly to anyone outside her siblings. Percy – gods bless him – had been wonderful. He understood that she didn’t want to be bugged, but he still brought her food, water, and fresh pencils throughout the day. He made sure that she got at least a few hours of sleep each night, and would tuck her into bed whenever she passed out at her desk.

Yes, Annabeth knew she was worrying him; she even knew how frustrated he sometimes got at being ignored. Still, he never complained, instead remaining her rock.Annabeth was building the city of cities, but Percy was the foundation.

One night, presumably after the campfire and before lights out, Annabeth sat sketching a temple for Aphrodite wildly. It was to be a grand structure, fully adorned with coral and sapphire shells, swirling with intricate spirals, and complete with a statue of the goddess rising from the sea at the dawn of a new age.

It was during this frenzy that Percy snuck in to check on her and collect her plate from dinner. Ever curious about her work, he went to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders before resting his head on one.

“That looks brilliant, Wise Girl,” he grinned. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Mm,” she murmured in response, shrugging him off. The compliment was sweet, but she couldn’t afford to lose her image of the building; not now.

Percy rolled his eyes, grabbing the plate. He planted a chaste kiss on her cheek as he left with a promise to return later to check on her and assure she got some sleep. She hummed her answer, flourishing her pencil as she finished the last swoop of the entrance-way. Perhaps if she finished tonight, she and Percy could talk for a while. She missed him.

~*~

Nearly a year later, Annabeth collapsed onto her bunk for the first time in what seemed like forever. The War had been brutal; she just wanted to sleep for a while to forget all they’d lost. Faces flashed behind her lids like a slideshow, each causing the hysteria to rise closer and closer to the surface. At the back of everything lay her guilt. Guilt in the form of sea green eyes, framed by a messy mop of dark hair. Guilt that threatened to swallow her whole, chanting “your fault your fault your fault” over and over, a never-ending mantra.

The worst part was that the guilt was right. It had been her call that led to the deaths of so many. She had been the one to tell them to go for it, take the chance. Percy had argued, sure they would find some other, less catastrophic way to take out the Earth goddess, but she had always been stubborn. Steadfast in her illusion of the perfect solution, she had led her friends to their deaths. If it hadn’t been for Frank and Jason returning from their own miniature mission at just the right time, she would be dead, too.

She almost wished she was.

Anything would have been better than the pounding regret in her ears, screaming as Hazel, so brave and kind, had when the Giant had crushed her. Death would have been better than the torture of seeing Piper, so innocent in her nature, thrown hard enough across the cavern to make her neck snap. Or the image of Leo, so loyal to his friends, skull smashed in by the hammer of the last remaining Giant. None of it even compared to the movie on constant repeat behind her lids, though. Over and over, she watched Percy dive in front of her, taking the spear destined for her own heart in his. The life and light draining from his eyes and all the while, she was helpless. Death would have been better than any of it.

Now, even Frank was gone, having sacrificed his own life force to burn out that of Gaea. The picture of his body going up in flames added itself to Annabeth’s wall.

After the War, unwilling to allow Octavian his long-aspired praetor-ship, and with no one to stick around for, Jason had returned with Reyna to Camp Jupiter. Grover and Tyson left to live in the Oregon-Washington area, both to assist the nature spirits deal with the monster destruction and increasing pollution in that area, and to keep an eye on Ella, the little red harpy who won Tyson’s heart. The two made unlikely friends, a satyr and a Cyclopes, but they made it work. Even Nico had disappeared once more, presumably back to his father’s kingdom. Annabeth had stood by and watched as Jason argued with the son of Hades, trying to keep him from running off again, but Nico was adamant. He left the very next day.

And so, even surrounded by fellow Greek campers, Annabeth was alone.

The last thought Annabeth had that night before falling asleep wasn’t of blood, gore, fire, or screams. It was something far, far worse. The last image to cross her mind before succumbing to unconsciousness was one of a boy with a mop of dark hair and sea green eyes carrying her from her desk, kissing her cheek, and tucking her into bed. Annabeth Chase knew then, she had lost her something permanent.


End file.
